Name

"You just call out my name, and you know, wherever I am, I'll come runnin', to see you again."
-from "You've Got a Friend" (my favorite version is by Carole King)


Two really great things that happened to me early this morning: first, my boyfriend called me from the States and the first thing he said was, "How was your night?" But, he said it in Luganda!!!! (and he even pronounced it correctly!) It was a really great way to wake up. ;)

Second, on my way to school one of the neighborhood kids called me by my African name! Now, this may not sound like a big deal, but let me tell you, it is, and it made me SO happy. Here's why: the commotion that my very existence causes is incredible. I cannot walk anywhere without kids staring, running towards me, waving, and shouting MUZUNGU! MUZUNGU! (which means, white person! white person!) BYE MUZUNGU! HOW-ARE-YOU-MU-ZUN-GU? (It rhymes.) BYE MUZUNGU! BYE MUZUNGU! MUZUNGU! BYE MUZUNGU! Now, in America, that would be kind of (ok, really really) strange and offensive, but here, it's just what happens. Muzungu isn't a derogatory term or anything, but it's weird to be called out by your race when you're used to living in a culture where that's not supposed to be acceptable. It's weird to be called muzungu, like it's your name, like it's your whole identity, and like you're indistinguishable from other muzungus (or actually, the plural would be bazungu). It's not the first time it's happened- in Thailand, I was "farang," the Thai word for foreigner. And, I'm not going to pretend that it doesn't happen in the States, either. Maybe not to me, but it still happens way too much to other people. (Yes, even today.)

Being muzungu is a little annoying, but overall it doesn't bother me like it bothers some people- I smile and wave at the kids- they're just kids, and, as one mom told me today, we're the first white people her kid has ever seen. A guy at the post office told me that it's like the kids think they're seeing an angel- and it's true, it feels like they kind of think you're fake or something. They laugh if you hold out your hand for them to shyly touch. Funny thing is, now whenever I see a white person that I don’t know, I’m just like the kids, because I think WHOA, MUZUNGU! only I just don’t say it out loud and point and wave. There are not many white people here at all, so it is in fact really shocking to see one.

Anyway, the other day, I decided that kids saying “white person” when they could be saying my name instead was just weird, and that I would teach my neighborhood kids that my name was not MUZUNGU!, that it was Nakivumbi,. (Nakivumbi is the African name my host family gave me.) So, when the kids all crowded around me on my way home from training, I told them in broken Luganda that my name was Nakivumbi, and made them repeat it, which they were happy to do (several times). So, today!!! Today, on my way to the training center, what do I hear? "BYE NAKIVUBI!!! NAKIVUMBI!! BYE NAKIVUMBI!" Not muzungu. And, oh, I was SO happy!